All Split Open
by Pioneer7
Summary: Peter has PTSD from dying during the snap. After he is injured on a simple patrol, he is having trouble healing himself. Stuck on a bus on a school trip with Ned, Peter must battle overcoming his own mind whilst Ned calls Tony to try and keep him alive. Hurt!Peter. Iron!Dad
1. Chapter 1

Hellos Loves! Back at it again with another fanfiction, hopefully I'll complete it this time around!

**Summary:** Peter has PTSD from dying during the snap. After he is injured on a simple patrol, he is having trouble healing himself. Stuck on a bus on a school trip with Ned, Peter must battle overcoming his own mind whilst Ned calls Tony to try and keep him alive.

This is inspired by Teen Wolf's episode Frayed.

**Warning:** May contain possible Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame spoilers!

**A/N:** This is set post Endgame snap-back and battle, but Tony is still alive :)

All Split Open

Why did they choose to sit in the back of the school bus? Out of all the perfectly spacious seats before them, they had to choose the very last seat that barely fit one person. Peter was slumped and squished up against the window. The bus hit another bump and his head, which was pressing far too deeply into the glass, slid down another few inches. He let out a half huff, half moan, and his breath fogged up the glass. He'd had his eyes closed for a few miles, now. They hurt inside his head, inside his eye sockets. Everything hurt. He wished he had told Ned he was sick and couldn't go, but it seemed like all of their school trips were always interrupted by villains trying to destroy Earth, so Peter felt obligated. He had hoped this time would be different. The bus had been pushing less than 20mph on Interstate 278, and slowly began to come to a stop. A few students in front of Ned and Peter whined in frustration. If Peter could open his eyes, he would have guessed there was an accident blocking the roadway. He felt Ned jerk beside him. He'd been playing some sort of warrior fighting game for the past half an hour, headphones in, grunting at odd and end points. The name of the game, Peter could not remember. He remembered Ned gleaming about it and he remembered being psyched, but everything was getting a bit too foggy for him to think straight.

"I got him, Peter! I got him!"

Peter tried to give a thumbs up but his hand barely moved an inch. The bus jolted to a halt and Peter's head quite literally flopped forward. His forehead was resting on the seat in front of the pair, his chin nearly to his chest. His eyes involuntary rolled around under his lids. A sound, sort of like a moan, bubbled up from his throat but I was not a sound he meant to make. It was his body's response.

"You okay, man?" Ned pulled one of his hear buds out and let it dangle, "Peter?" Ned put his hand on Peter's back and pulled it away almost as quick. Peter was soaked in sweat. If Ned looked close enough, it glistened on Peter's upper lip.

"Whoa, you're really hot."

"Is that a compliment?" Peter leaned against the back of the seat once again and pulled his sweatshirt tighter around himself. As he did so, a large circle of blood flashed from the inner side of the fabric. It looked like the original blood had dried, but there were fresher spots blooming now.

"Is that blood?" Ned whispered. He went to pull Peter's hand away but Peter flinched.

"It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal! Are you crazy? I'm serious, dude. What happened?"

"I'll heal its fine."

"It doesn't look fine!" Ned eyed the rest of the bus over the top of the seat. The traffic was still stagnant, and the rest of their classmates had their heads bowed either at their phones or in a napping position. No one was listening. Peter was letting out huffs instead of normal breaths now.

"Were you on patrol? Is that what happened?"

Peter nodded and it looked as if he was going to say something, but he flinched like an electric shock shot through him and he nearly lifted himself out of the seat in pain. He gripped the seat and squinted his eyes shut, letting out a whimper.

"Okay, okay. Calm." Ned's hands hovered over Peter, unsure of what to do. "Uh. Let me see it."

Peter shook his head. He had paled significantly in the three minutes they had been talking.

"Come on. Hiding it isn't going to get you anywhere. Let me see. I won't even puke, I promise."

Peter unwrapped the hoodie from himself, hands shaking. His t-shirt was soaked through. Ned knew it was supposed to be blood, but the color was closer to brown than red. Peter lifted his shirt too, and Ned struggled to keep his promise of not puking. There was a visibly deep gash from below Peter's belt to near his third rib. It looked as if Peter had attempted to stop the bleeding with a piece of gauze, but the gauze had only stuck to the bloodied side of his shirt and left the wound wide open.

"Jesus! Peter, what the hell is that!"

"I got stabbed last night but I thought it would've healed by now."

"Dude, we need to get that checked out. It looks like it's...oozing…stuff."

Peter pulled his shirt back down and shivered. "What am I supposed to do, Ned? It's not like I can go to the hospital."

"Wait, why aren't you healing?"

"I don't know, maybe the knife was laced with something, I don't know I just-"

"Alright! Everyone listen up!" Mr. Harrington, the teacher in charge, stood up from his seat at the front. He was holding a clipboard in his hand. "It looks like traffic is moving again so we will get going any minute now. I've gotten quite a lot of bathroom break requests – thanks to Brad – so we will be making a quick pit stop. I would say buckle up, but we all know these buses are extremely under qualified in the safety department."

"That's perfect! We'll fix you up there and…" Ned turned back to Peter, who was barely even holding up his head. His eyes were closed but Ned could see slivers of white. "Peter? Peter. Hey." Ned shook Peter's shoulders. There was a small shift in his movement, but the only new thing was the amount of sweat everywhere. "Hey, man, you have to stay awake because I don't know what to do and I can't just carry you unconscious off the bus."

Nothing. Ned's head swirled. The bus was full of students and staff and yet no one could help him. No one knew about Peter's wound or that he was Spider-man. No one knew about the supposedly super healing that was MIA at the moments. No one except Ned. Ned and Tony Stark. Ned patted down Peter until he found what he was looking for. Peter's phone with an Iron man case. Ned dialed without thinking of what he would say. He just dialed. The pickup way swift and quick.

"Go for Tony Stark." Ned could practically feel the power pose and three piece suit through the phone.

"Mr. Stark, sir, hi. Um, hi."

"I won't be taking any sale pitches today, thank you. I am right in the middle of a very important tea party and our juice pops are melting." Ned heard a sweet, muffled giggle from the other side of the phone. That most have been the Morgan Peter was always gushing about. He'd like to meet her one day, teach her a few things about Legos.

"No! Please don't hang up. Um, this is Ned. I'm Ned. Peter's friend Ned."

"What's wrong?"

"Um."

"Where's Peter? Put him on the phone."

"He can't really talk right now. You see, sir, um, well he said he was out on patrol. I guess, last night, I don't know he wasn't really clear about that but, yeah, anyway, last night and he got stabbed and, typically, he just heals right up, right, but he's sort of not healing at all and he's basically bleeding all over the bus…And I don't know what to do. Sir."

"Where are you?"

"On a bus."

"I know that part. Where is the bus? What are you near?"

"Um, um, oh." Ned squinted at a passing big blue sign that designated rest stops. "It says Broome Rest Area. We are stopping there next."

"Okay, look, I'm coming to you. I need you to keep him awake. Try and stop the bleeding. Okay? You keep him awake and you get him to a bathroom and you lock the doors and you wait for me. You understand? You wait for me."

"Okay, I can do that. Yes."

Ned had no idea how long it took them to get to the next rest stop, but a million years sounded about right. He's used an extra shirt he had in his bag to keep pressure on Peter's wound. Made Peter drink one of the waters May had packed. But, now, Ned was hefting Peter's arm further over his shoulder as they made their way off the bus. He'd made some dumb excuse about Peter being hungover and didn't stay long enough to give details. Peter's full weight was against him now, his feet dragging on the ground, pointed in on each other. As the entrance to the bathroom came into view, Ned saw Tony Stark ducking inside. It was Tony Stark, but not the one Ned had seen on TV. He was dressed in dark jeans, a gray sweatshirt with the hood drawn up over his head and a baseball cap. Ned assumed he was trying to hide his identity, but he still looked like Tony Stark. Just Tony Stark...running errands. The bathroom door squeaked as it closed and Ned locked eyes with Tony. He was kneeling in the corner, with a towel on the floor in between two sinks.

"Lock the door. Put him here."

Ned did so and Peter let out a cry.

**I have more coming, I swear! What did you think? Please let me know :) Toodles **


	2. Chapter 2

Hello all! Thank you for all the wonderful feedback! I tried my best to get chapter two out as quick as I could. I hope you enjoy it!

**A/N**: I don't plan on this chapter being too graphic, but it could be disturbing to some so read at your own risk and leisure!

All Split Open

Chapter Two

Tony's hands were shaking, more than he had ever seen them shake before. More than when Rhodey fell from the sky. More than when he was looking into Cap's eyes and realizing there was no trust there. More than facing Thanos. More than watching Morgan being born. His hands were shaking more than ever because he was about to lose his son. Again. Peter was lying in between two sinks, his head limp to the side, his chest heaving up and down. Sweat glued his shirt tightly to his skin and Tony swore he could see each individual rib. Those shaking hands peeled the shirt away from Peter's stomach and up to his chest. His wound was worse than Ned had described. Even though Tony knew they were knife wounds, the gashes looked sickeningly similar to claws. Claws that had raked their away across his dear boy's abdomen. The skin around the wounds was raw and purple. The cut itself was deep and it looked nearly black inside. There was fresh blood and dried blood and definitely day old blood that was browned and caked to the skin.

"Jesus, kid." Tony whispered. He tucked Peter's hair away from his sweaty forehead and felt for a fever. "He's definitely too warm. It might be infected." Tony informed Ned, who was currently "guarding" the door. Tony knew there was no way anyone was getting into the bathroom because the bolted lock was bigger than the lock on Peter's apartment, but the boy was panicking and needed a job to do. Ned was as far away from the pair as possible. He looked like he was both barricading the door with his entire body and also leaning so far against it that he might just fall through.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Don't sweat it, kid. He'll be fine in no time." Lies, of course. But Tony was not a fan of purposely scaring children.

"Let's see the damage, huh?" Tony pulled Peter against his chest in order to get a view of Peter's back. Although slick with sweat and slightly bruised, there were no cuts there. "Well, at least you're just a one side cut kind of guy."

Peter's entire body shivered as Tony laid him carefully against the wall. He breathed in and out of his mouth in deep drags like there was no oxygen left on the earth.

"You're alright, you're alright." Tony patted Peter's chest. "Peter? It's...its Tony. Kid I'm going to need you to open your eyes for me, alright?"

Peter did nothing but lay there motionless.

"Now I know I don't have any basis to ground you, but if you do not open your eyes this minute young many you are not allowed to go out on patrol for a whole month!"

Tony cupped Peter's cheek. "Kid, please." Still nothing. Fresh blood dripped from his wound.

"Ned!" Ned stood at attention. "My bag, over there. Inside there's a sewing kit. I need you to get it for me."

As Ned did so, Tony pulled Peter's shirt up even higher and began dabbing at the blood with the t-shirt Ned had used. He wet it from the sink and attempted, at best, to clean the wound. In his haste, he'd forgotten antiseptic. He'd punish himself later for that.

"Here, Mr. Stark." Ned handed him the kit. Tony unraveled a spool of thread, licked the end, and threaded the needle.

"He's not healing so I have to stich it up myself." Technically, Tony was talking to Ned, but Ned had no attention for anyone but Peter. And secretly, Tony was hoping Peter would hear and wake himself up. The kid feared needles like nobody's business.

The instant Tony began to sew, Ned scampered back to his corner and the door, grabbing a spare trashcan and hovering over it, pale faced.

"If you need to puke, that's fine kid. But I can't have you passing out. One unconscious kid is enough to deal with.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. Just not too fond of...that."

"Stay there. Take deep breaths. You've done enough, Ned."

Tony squinted, concentrating, furrowing his brow. The gashes were wider than he had anticipated, and, even though Peter was not healing, his skin was still as tough as usual. It was unnerving, how quiet Peter was. No crying out in pain. No whimpering. No squirming away from the needle. Just…nothing. He was just lying there. Just lying there. His cheeks were flushed and is brow shimmered with sweat. His chest rattled with breath. His hands were palm up on the floor. His chin to his chest. As much as Tony hated to see him in pain, any sort of pained reaction would be better than this. This Peter is this state was nothing more than a zombie. And that made Tony was to rip his own throat out. His stomach flopped and ached with nervous acid as he tied the knot on Peter's stitches. He ripped open a bandage and patched the large wound as much as he could. Peter's stomach was cold to the touch.

"We need to get him out of here. Now."

Ned opened his mouth to respond but Tony was simply talking to the air now. "He can't stay here and there's no way in hell he's going back on that bus! I'm taking him with me."

"But, Mr. Stark, Tony, sir. What about the trip? Our teacher will notice we are gone and Peter disappears from class trips and actual class and assemblies and dances way too much already."

"Just tell him that Peter's gotten sick and you called his aunt and she's here to take you both home. Okay? Just go grab your stuff from the bus and tell him. It'll be alright. I promise."

Ned nodded with wide eyes. Tony could see his thoughts swirling around in his head. He swallowed, nodded once more, unlocked the door, and ran. Tony turned to Peter and stroked his forehead.

"Alright kid. If I pick you up, you gonna be mad about it?" Tony slid his arm around Peter's back and pushed his upright. Peter's head lolled forward and Tony gently positioned it in the crook of his neck. Peter whimpered in pain. "I know. I know. I know it hurts but it'll be over real soon, okay? You gotta give me all you got, right here. Okay? I'm going to pick you up."

The only thing Peter could muster was a small, "No."

Tony probably wouldn't have ever heard the boy if Peter's head hadn't been right next to his ear. Tony closed his eyes for just a moment. "Pete, I have to. I know you don't want to but we can't stay here. It's not safe. You're not safe. And I don't know what's going on in that head of yours but you can't heal yourself right now so this is all we got. You gotta trust me, okay? We have to get you out of here because I can't—"

Tony cut himself off. The thoughts that had been boiling under his skin ever since Ned had called were suddenly breaking the surface. The thoughts that kept him awake at night. The thoughts that prompted him to put more safety features in the kid's suit and check up on the bullies who torment him at school. The thoughts that nearly killed him the first time around.

"I can't lose you." Tony held Peter to his chest, one hand on the back of Peter's neck, the other on his back. Tony trembled along with Peter this time. "I can't lose you. Not again. I can't do it. I just—you have so much left in you. And I can't live in a world that doesn't have you in it."

Tony breathed in, and kissed the top of Peter's head. He whispered into Peter's hair. "I mean, who is going to make everyone laugh at Stark family dinners if it isn't you? Who is Morgan going to look up to? Who's going to make me feel like the most important man with just a smile? I know life has been tough on you, but it's my job to make all that go away for you. Okay? So we need—"

The bathroom door busted open and Ned nearly toppled inside. "I got them! Mr. Stark! I got the backpacks! I—Is he okay?"

Peter was cradled in Tony's lap. His arms fell limply around Tony's waist and the only reason his body was still upright was because Tony was holding him so tight.

"Oh yes, he's fine. Just being a big baby about getting up." Tony stood, first, and then hefted Peter over his shoulder. Peter dangled like a rag doll and Tony could barely look at it through the mirrors about the sinks. He already looked dead.

"The bus is still here but there's an ice cream truck outside so I don't think they'll see us."

"Good thinking, kid. Let's go."

Tony was careful of Peter's head as they closed the bathroom door behind them.

**That was intense! What were your thoughts? A new chapter will be coming soon, stay tuned!**

**Also, I'm looking for new inspiration for stories so if anyone has a request, I'll be happy to do my best to make it come true. Have a great day! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again! I apologize this chapter took so long to come out, I've been on vacation and wasn't feeling the creative spirit. But, I'm back now and with a new chapter!**

**Thank you again for all the love. Enjoy!**

Chapter Three 

Peter heard yelling. Muffled yelling. Something about "hurry" and "step on it" and "stay awake" but the words were distant, as if he was hearing them from under water or through a wall. He heard his name too, but that was ever more distant. At least, he thought it was his name. He tried to repeat it back to the watery void of a voice but the words "Peter" felt thick and sticky in his mouth, like he'd eaten too much peanut butter and couldn't find the will to swallow.

"P'm." was the most he could muster out. Everything was loud, here. Now loud with understandable conversation, but loud like he had just been in a tightly crowded space and the only thing he could focus on was the ringing of chatter. That's what his ears were doing; ringing. And he could feel each individual heart beat so intently he thought it might burst through his chest cavity and paint the walls red. His skin tingled. If Peter could open his eyes, he would have expected to see millions of tiny bugs crawling up and down his arms and legs until he couldn't see anything beneath them. It was like he couldn't keep his limbs still. It felt like each atom in his body was breaking apart and then sewing themselves back together over and over again until Peter couldn't decipher if he was actually moving or it was just the world spinning around him. He squeezed his eyes even tighter shut, hoping the darkness would comfort him somehow. It did not. His mind wasn't making sense. He was stuck in a vicious cycle of thinking he was feeling back to normal, then having a sinking stomach because he realized he, in fact, felt worse than ever. His thoughts spun so much it made his feel physically ill. How was he supposed to stop the world from spinning if it was still spinning when he closed his eyes? The darkness was spinning in his mind. Was he making it spin? Was he making himself feel the acid pumped in his stomach? Was he actually choking on the vomit stuck in his throat? An invisible force wrenched him forwards, possibly upwards, Peter couldn't tell which was up. Something hard simultaneously smacked his back and stuck itself in his mouth to feel around. They were just cold enough that they could be fingers. But Peter had no idea why fingers would be swirling around in his mouth. They couldn't be his fingers, could they? His fingers were covered in hallucinogenic bugs at the moment. More smacking of his back. Peter did not appreciate this constant abuse but he also knew he couldn't lift his head up voluntarily to seek revenge for it.

"Breathe." The first crystal clear sentence Peter had heard. It just floated in the space somewhere next to Peter's head. He had heard the words but not the meaning and he felt himself attempted to swallow the contents of his stomach again. His throat contracted. It burned. He strained against the blockage and a small, nearly high pitched, wheeze escaped in a bubble. "Breathe!" Another smack to the back. He gagged. He arched his back. He gargled. And he threw up once again. The momentum of his body and the content spewing out of it was enough to shock peter's eyes open. They were so watery he had no idea where he was. It was much, much louder now. He heard himself coughing before he registered what he was doing. There was talking. And the rumble of cars. And yelling. And an artificial voice. And moving weights on his back. They were warm. Maybe hands? They moved in circular movements like hands do.

"-ear me? Pete, can you he-" Noise was fading in and out. Peter rolled his watery eyes to the source of it. There was a man near his shoulder. He was close. A bit too close. Peter blinked. Once. Twice. A few more frantic times until tears ran down his face and he could see clearly. His head bobbed up and down into Tony's chest. He saw the arc reactor first. He almost head butted the thing before the same warm hands took him by the jaw and lifted him to look into the face of their owner.

"Kid. Look at me. Right at me." Peter thought he was but when Tony lightly shook his face, he realized his eyes were oddly closed all of the sudden. "Pete! Eyes on me." Disobeying wasn't an option.

Peter's eyes drooped dangerously low but they were open, which is all that was needed. "You with me?"

Peter either nodded yes or he just couldn't hold his head up anymore because once again he was nose to metal with the arc reactor. Tony lifted him again. "There you go. Come on, quit going limp on me."

In the blurriness of his mind and his eye site, Peter could make out that Tony was half sitting on, half kneeling beside a sleek black seat. The seat wobbled dangerously beneath them and Peter dug his fingers into Tony's back.

"Easy, Happy! You'll make him sick again. Deep breaths, kid. In through the nose, out through the mouth..."

They were in a car. The last thing Peter could recall was being on another wobbly seat but not this one. A bus. A school trip. Ned. _Ned _

"N'd." Even his lips couldn't move right.

"I'm right here, Peter. Right here." There was another body beside Peter now, on his other side. He hadn't noticed it before but he was confused on why not because of the increasingly amount of body heat he could feel. It radiated. "You're going to be just fine so soon, Mr. Stark said so, so it must be true."

Peter could only stare at his friend. His eyes were glazed and Ned's nervous smile faded in and out between the long blinks of his lids. He hadn't liked being unaware before but not that he was aware, all he wanted to do was sleep. Curl up in a ball on a soft bed. Burry himself under a wad of blankets. Be lulled to sleep by the sound of cars rushing over manhole covers in the street next to his apartment. He used to find the noise irritating but the consistent rattle was his white noise now. He even left his window open, on calm nights. The breeze would ruffle cool air into his bedroom until—

"Peter!" He opened his eyes. He couldn't remember closing them, but by the increasing crease in-between Tony's eyebrows, he assumed it had been longer than he had anticipated. "I need you to listen to me. Pete. I need you to focus. Do you remember what you were doing today?"

Peter's eyebrows knit together. "F'd trip."

"That's good. That's good. Do you know how you got here?"

A simply shake of his head. Peter was almost permanently glued to Tony's chest, his forehead resting in the crook of Tony's neck.

"Alright, that's alright. You've had a tough one so I'll let that slide, but you need to stay awake for me. Okay, bud?" Tony cupped the back of Peter's neck. "We are almost back to the compound and Bruce is waiting for us. You don't want to make him nervous, do you?"

Peter shook his head again. He could feel the wave of drossiness everywhere in his body. His arms were weak. His legs ached. His chest was on fire. Each rock of the car ride shot angry electric shocks of pain through his body. He didn't realize he was whimpering until Tony shushed him. The warm hands were on his back for the third time, rubbing soothing circles.

"Alright, Happy, you need to go faster."

Peter prayed that he wouldn't. He couldn't take his flopping stomach or his aching limbs or his tired brain. He couldn't breathe through the jolts of pain. He couldn't focus on anything besides the circles being rubbed on his back and the blood that was soaking through his shirt. He noticed nothing until Tony was hauling him from the car. He hung limply with one arm over Tony's shoulder, attempting to walk, with only one leg vaguely pushing the rest of his body upwards. Peter's feet dragged, his tennis shoes squeaking as they scuttled against the linoleum floor of the lobby. He didn't even bother to try and keep his head up. It bounced against his chest.

"Almost there, Pete. Hold on." Ned ran ahead to push the elevator button. It seemed ridiculous to wait for an elevator, but it's not like Peter could take the stairs. The elevator beeped and the doors open. As Tony began hefting Peter inside, the kid's legs completely gave out. They stumbled beneath him and Peter collapsed. Tony clung to the kid, wrapping his arms around him, but the fall was too unexpected that Tony toppled to the floor with him, landing directly on top of the kid.

"Shit!" Tony rolled himself away. Peter's body rocked with the movement. A small alarm was blaring inside the elevator and Tony noticed it was because Peter's legs were preventing the doors was closing all the way. They just kept tapping the heels of his shoes and then swinging back open.

"Tony!" Bruce appeared, medical bag in hand, Tony had no idea from where. He darted past Ned, who was still standing by the button. "What happened?"

"His legs just gave out! I tried to catch him but I—"

"Did he hit his head?"

"I-uh-I'm sure he did. How could he not have? I nearly crushed him!"

"Alright, alright. No need to point blame. I just need to try and wake him up, okay? The fall could have affected his wound but if he has a head injury too, we are in deep trouble."

Tony balled his jacket up and slipped it under Peter's head while Bruce tapped Peter's cheek.

"Peter? Can you hear me? It's Dr. Banner." Nothing. "You took a fall. I just need to make sure you're okay, buddy. So, can you just open your eyes for me?"

More tapping. Bruce rand his fingers over Peter's skull, gently feeling for bumps or bleeding. As he stroked Peter's hair, Peter's eyes scrunched. He wrinkled his nose and turned his head.

"He's waking up!" Tony said, mostly for himself. "Hey. Kid."

"Peter." Bruce pulled a pen light from his pocket and lifted Peter's lid. "Peter, are you with us?

A croaky, "yes" was all Bruce needed.

"Let's get him back to the lab." Tony began lifting Peter's shoulders but a hand from Bruce stopped him.

"No, not yet. I need to make sure there is no spinal damage before we move him."

"Spinal damage?"

"I'm not certain, but a fall like that could do some harm. From the fight last night and the stab wounds, he's abdomen has taken enough heat. I just want to make sure."

"Bruce, we can't just leave him lying on the damn floor!"

"Moving him could be even more dangerous. At least this way, the hard floor is keeping in place anything that may want to pop out of place. I'm sure he can handle a bit of discomfort if that means he can walk tomorrow."

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again. "I know you don't like it, Tony, but if he's not healing like he should be, than I have to treat him just like any other case. Okay?" Bruce knelt down and took Peter's head in between his hands. "Now, Peter. Look at me. I need to know. Can you move your feet?"

Peter just stared, intently, at Bruce. His lips twitched like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. His feet did not move. Not even a twitch.

Bruce knelt closer and enunciated each and every word. "Peter, can you move your feet?

A tear rolled down Peter's cheek, trickling into his ear, unnaturally cold. His head rolled slightly from side to side and he smiled, eyes focusing a bit too far to the left of Bruce for his liking. "Are you asking me to dance?" his words were quiet.

Then his eyes rolled back and his body went rigid.

**This chapter took an interesting turn as I was writing it but I am excited about it! Hope you enjoyed. Much love.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone! I'm so sorry to my lateness but I hope I can make up for it with a good chapter!**

**This chapter has a few pieces of foul language so be advised.**

All Split Open

Chapter Four

**Peter's POV**

Peter couldn't see anything. Clarification; Peter couldn't see anything clearly. There was a haze over his eyes and everything his eyes touched his brain transferred into colorful mush. Pixels beaded together in front of his eyes until he couldn't determine what was what. Sound rushed in and out of his ears. Everything would be muffled one second and then the next there would be too much noise for him toe even think clearly. His throat was tight, tighter than it had ever been before. His skin was crawling all over itself and it was like he could feel his own lungs expanding and contracting with each breath. He tried to move his head, but the air around him was so thick that his neck was stuck in place. Everything was vibrating. And then everything went dark.

**Overall POV**

"Holy shit!" Tony was staring, wide eyed, as Peter's body went rigid by his feet. His legs and shoulders and jaw locked up. His fist clamped together. A moan bubbled in his throat. And then he began seizing. His shoulders arched his neck until the back of Peter's was almost off of the ground. His torso shook. His hands, palms up, clenched and unclenched in the same rhythm as his arms flopped by his side. Breaths shot rapid from between his teeth and his eyes stared, unfocused and distant, in the direction of the ceiling.

"Bruce, he's seizing!"

"I know he's seizing!" Bruce's hands were already pushing Peter over on his side. Peter's arms flopped uselessly as Bruce did so. Fingers were stuck into Peter's mouth once more as Bruce pushed his tongue out of his airway, whispering, "It's alright. It's alright. You'll get through this."

"Bruce, you have to help him!" Tony had, uncharacteristically, backed himself into the corner of the elevator, his hands cupping his own cheeks. The only sounds Tony could hear was the continual beeping of the elevator's doors opening and closing with Peter's feet still blocking the doorway and the gulping noise coming from Peter. The only way Tony could describe it was like Peter was drowning on air. The noise reminded Tony of when he had once overdosed as a teen and had made the same sound himself in an attempt to keep himself from detaching from reality.

"Tony, I can't do anything until he's finished."

"Until he's finished? He's not taking a test Bruce, he's having a fucking seizure."

"I'm aware. Tony, you need to calm down." Bruce looked over his shoulder, both hands still holding down the convulsing Peter. "Keep them away from the door. Help his friend."

Tony turned. He'd completely forgotten Ned was there. Ned was hovering just outside the elevator doors, frozen in a mid-run display. He was crying. A small crowd of Stark employees and guests had formed just outside.

"Get the hell out of here! What is wrong with you! Get out, all of you!" Tony waved his arms at the crowds. He took Ned around the shoulders and ushered him inside the elevator.

"Come on, kid. It's alright. He's alright. You did good." Tony was swallowing his own fear to make room for his kid's friend.

"Is he going to be okay?" Ned's voice was small.

"Of course he is. He's Spider Man." Ned smiled at that.

"Tony. He's stopped seizing. We need to go now." Bruce was looking at the pair, his fingers on Peter's pulse. Peter's eyes were open and Tony wished they were closed. Those eyes were looking at nothing, they lids way too low for someone with a conscious mind. Drool was pooling at the edge of his mouth and seeping onto the floor.

"Move his legs, get them inside." Ned did so. The elevator doors finally closed and shot upwards. "I've had the med bay cleared. We'll need to move fast." In just the small amount of time the group had been in the elevator, blood had seeped through Peter's shirt. That also meant they had bled through the bandages Tony had wrapped around him in the car and the essential stitches from the bathroom. If Tony was thinking clearly, he would have realized the seizure would have ripped the stitches right out.

"I thought you said we couldn't move him." Tony's mind was racing, "Spinal damage."

"I did say that. But if he's bleeding this much, we don't have time to think about anything else. I'd rather him have spinal damage than die right here on the floor."

Tony felt sick. If he had it his way, he'd die on the floor right now just for Peter to wake up. The elevator door dinged and opened.

"Let's go. Help me with him!" Tony hefted Peter up by his armpits, Ned by his heels, Bruce keeping pressure on his wound. "Careful! Careful. Put him on the table!"

They did so and Bruce tore through Peter's shirt. It was even worse than he'd imagined. The brown, dried blood now had a yellow tinge to it and puss, the color Bruce could only describe as muted mustard, now ringed the lacerations. The skin around it was a blue, gray color. Peter had lost too much blood.

"Tony, I need you to try and get him talking. With the seizure, I need to know how coherent he is."

Tony had turned an odd shade of green. His nostrils were flaring.

"Tony! Tony, Now!"

"Okay. Okay. Yes. I can do that." He cupped Peter's face. Peter's eyes were open but they were just rolling around in his head, never stopping or looking at one specific thing. They were purposeless.

"Please. Please, God. Pete. Pete, look at me."

**Peter POV **

The chatter and buzzing in his ears reminded him of multiple fans were blowing at once. One at a slightly faster speed than the other until the imperfection of it all barreled down his ear canal and into his brain. Everything was loud. There were so many voices. Voices on top of voices, voices within one another. Fragments.

"Please."

The world was spinning around him but he could not get his body to react fast enough in comparison.

"Peter."

His fingers wouldn't curl. Typically, with sensory overload, he clenched his hands into fists so his finger nails could pin his palms. The pain made everything else fade away. He was staring down the barrel of his own arm, hoping his fingers would move even an inch. Then, something else caught his eye. Little strings. Protruding from about midway up his arm.

**Overall POV**

Peter had been staring off into space long enough that Tony had begun to worry. Although, it is not like he hadn't already been worried. His worry meter was about maxed out and Peter wasn't even fixed yet. Peter's eyes twitched and squinted.

"Kid, I'm right here. You're alright."

"Why is there spaghetti in my arm?"

"What? What's that buddy?"

"Spaghetti."

Tony's stomach was dropping and flip flopping all at once. He was going to need an entire bathtub filled dose of Pepto Bismol when this day was all over. His palms were sweating. Was Peter brain damaged? Was his brain not putting words together in the order they should be in? Tony didn't want to have to watch his kid try to find the word to describe a "screwdriver".

"There...there's no spaghetti in your arms, Pete. It's alright."

"No, no. No! There's spaghetti right there! Look at it!" Peter shut up unexpectedly. Some of his super strength must have been returning because Tony stumbled back with the force of it. Peter ripped the IV straight out of his arm, a spurt of blood following. "Get out. Get out. Get out."

"Kid! Stop!" Bruce was already applying pressure to the IV wound. Of course, there was not a lot of blood but Peter had lost enough already. Tony grasped Peter by his shoulders.

"Hey. Pete. Peter. Hey. Look at me. You need to calm down." Peter struggled in his grip. "You've been through a lot. You're confused. But we can't help you if you hurt us. Do you understand me?"

"Get it out!"

"It's out. It's out. Look." Tony shushed him.

"Tony, lay him down! Jesus, he's bleeding all over the place!" Bruce ushered over Ned to push pressure on it. Blood bubbled up over his hands.

"That's...that's a lot of blood." Ned wavered.

"Bruce, he's not good with blood."

"He's going to have to be today. We only have so many hands and Peter is dying."

"I can do it." Ned took a deep breath.

"I know you can. Now you keep direct pressure on that."

Peter was lying down again. He was blinking a million miles a minute. He rocked his head from side to side. He grasped at the air. "Had to get out the spaghetti."

"Okay. I know. Look, the spaghetti is gone. Alright? It's all gone." Tony turned to Bruce, pain in his eyes. "Please, give him something."

"I can't do that if he keeps ripping the IVs out."

"I'll keep him occupied. Just do it."

Bruce nodded. Tony pulled up a stool to the opposite side of the table of Peter's IV arm. He took Peter's hand, which was hanging limply off the table. Tony rubbed him thumb over Peter's soft skin, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing it. Peter was staring at the ceiling, eyes glassy.

"Pete. I need you to look at me." The response was delayed but eventually Peter rolled towards the sound of Tony's voice. "Just keep your eyes on me. Do you know who I am?"

"T'ny." was all Peter could muster.

"That's right. And I'm going to make all this better. Okay? Just keep looking at me."

"Cold."

"I know, bud." Tony draped a blanket over the kid. "Just don't close your eyes. Can you do that for me?"

"Sc'rd."

"There's no need to be scared. I'm going to be right here the whole time."

Peter's eyes fluttered, his pupils rising and falling in size. He took one, big, deep, shuttering breath and then his eyes rolled back in his head.

**Thank you for reading! I am so sorry again for taking so long! I hope this was worth it! Stay tuned, I'll try to be faster next time.**

**All my love :) **


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